Sam’s Teeth

The small poems in Patrick Culliton’s collection SAM’S TEETH use the things and diction of rural and suburban Ohio life to immerse the reader in the melancholic world the poems inhabit. From taxidermy and barbecue sauce to schoolyards and the hardware store, the stuff of everyday American life underscores the insidious timbre threading through the work. The reader is left haunted by “America’s ghost meat” “ashamed of the way we kiss America.” In Culliton’s words: “I was raised Cleveland Irish Catholic and all I got was this lousy book of poems.”

Excerpt:

I signed the treaty with fish hooks,

sided with the risen knuckle, hung

a bouquet of raccoon skulls over the door,

made a rattle out of Uncle Sam’s teeth

and an aspirin bottle. Of his mistresses,

I am most fair. I coat his bass drum

with Vaseline and ash. I name the stars

on his neck after yet-to-be-declared battles.

About the Author:

Patrick Culliton was born and raised in Cleveland, OH, where he now works as a Reference Librarian. He is the author of the chapbook Hornet Homily.